Over the Ocean
by WrenUebele
Summary: Alice returns to Wonderland to rediscover what she left behind.
1. Prologue

Author's Note and Disclaimer

First and foremost, I do not own anything to do with Alice in Wonderland except one DVD copy. And furthermore, I do not intend to profit by this in any way, shape, or form (unless you count my own enjoyment). ... Exactly how would you profit off of fanfiction anyway? Is someone, somewhere, charging people to read this stuff? Who would pay?

This story takes place in Burtonverse and may very well be rated M in the far, far future. In other words: Don't expect smut from me until I'm comfortable with this story and the characters. If this bores you, don't read. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome. So are nice reviews. Now on with my epic tale! (yeah, epic... snigger)

Prologue

Alice sighed, staring out the window, distracted from her work on the finances of her mad-crazy-wonderful (not to mention utterly successful and ultimately profitable) Idea.

Three years. Three wonderful-strange-lonely-homesick-exotic years.

Alice examined her face in the window glass' reflection, more pleased with shadowed illusion of her image than she ever was with any sliver-backed mirror. She was twenty-two now, nearly twenty-three. Her face, no longer trapped in that strange-beautiful phase between childhood and adulthood, showed strength, character. The freckle dusting on her nose a little more pronounced, her cheeks a little more hollow, and, she noted with rue, the circles under her eyes so much darker.

When would that blasted letter get here?

So much had happened since the rabbit hole. The China Idea had proven to be a good one, even more so since her Idea arrived at the tail end of the Second Opium War, opening even more ports to trade than before. Two months of planning, cajoling, learning, convincing with Lord Ascot by her side. Another five months by ship.

Alice winced at the memory. The novelty of being on a cramped ship without a single other woman on board while on the high seas had lost it's charm well within the first week. Surely the return trip would be even more interminable.

She briefly toyed with the idea of scrapping Wonder and heading back to England on mule. Foot, even. Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one who thought that was a good idea.

A little over two years in China. Years where she established trading posts in the major ports and towns. Along the Hoang Ho River in Lanzhou and Yinchuan, off the Yellow Sea in WeiHeWei. She even managed to corner the market by being the first to establish a post in the new open port of Shanghai.

Sometimes disappointing years: Her sex worked against her just as much in China as in England, it seemed. The culture was rich, yes, but the mannerisms and class bias were ridged and suffocating. Alice had hoped to set some native women up as the managers of these outposts, but unfortunately it had proved impossible. A woman who could read and write the local tongue was a rarity in China, and besides, they practiced the most horrid things here. Alice could vividly recall the first time she saw a woman with bound feet, being carried by her son. When she inquired of her guide and translator what was wrong with her, Alice had at first been certain that she misunderstood. Why would anyone, _anyone,_ subject themselves to _that_!

Sometimes wonderful years: Alice remembers the triumph of the first ship sailing off, loaded down with tea, silks, and opium. Her heart felt like it had grown wings, knocking against her ribcage in joy. And the beauty, the sheer beauty of China! Even without the heady feeling of success and accomplishment the trip would have been worth it for the sights alone.

Mostly homesick years though: Any letters she wrote to Mother and Margaret took forever to be delivered. And there were others, so many others that she could not write letters to. Mally, Thackary, The White Queen. And her Hatter. Alice missed her Wonderland with a steady, never-ending ach. Sometimes, when she was in a place of almost impossible beauty, or near a particularly intoxicating tea scent, Alice would close her eyes, inhale deeply, and for a moment, the barest moment, it would be as though she never left. Then her heart would catch on to the trick and ach anew.

Luckily the equally never-ending work to be done was more than up to the challenge her heart possessed. Even the things... Alice glanced at the ledger and groaned ...she wished would sort themselves out.

One more glance out the window and one more sip of tea.

Was that Damnable letter ever coming?

The tea here was heavenly, if a bit strange. Alice rolled her sip of white tea on her tongue before swallowing. The Chinese never used cream and rarely sugar in their teas. But such lovely teas they were anyway. She wished she could get the Hatter's opinion on them; the robust blacks, the greens, the sweet white teas. Every cup she had made her miss that ceaseless teaparty more.

But she was in China, and likely to remain so until that awful-wonderful-late-late-_late_ letter arrived. The letter, of course, would be the one from Lord Ascot, who was monitoring the arrival of the shipments to Britain and appraising how they were received on the market. Should the shipments be too irregular or the market too glutted with similar goods to make it profitable, Alice would receive the letter she dreaded: the one with suggestions and instructions to fulfill. The one that would keep her here in China for another six months to a year, traveling between trading posts trying to set things right.

If everything went well though... That letter would be the one calling her home. That was the letter Alice had come to wish for with her entire aching heart.

* * *

At first he waited for Her.

Sitting in his chair pouring tea, trying desperately to smile through the scream that was building inside of him as the hours turned into days turned into weeks turned into months turned in an entire year... Yet Time must be angry at him again because all these days were the same... Running together and clotting like blood into one huge lump in his throat that made the nice calm words harder and harder to force out, until he was afraid to open his mouth at all for fear that black clots would fall out instead of words...

Eventually he wandered.

After all, She had said 'Be back before you know it'. She could be back and he simply did not know it yet. Best to go look for her. Naughty. Better than sitting, walking. And if his wandering took him to That Place more often than not, the first few times he barely noticed. Intent on Her.

Eventually That Place and She became intertwined. He thinks of Her disappearing and hears Their screams. The chessboard and the flames are one and the same.

That is when he starts disappearing. He'll lose himself and wake in another place. He begins to suspect that the times he is awake are becoming fewer. But when he disappears he doesn't (can't, really) think of Her. Or Them.

_...bloodinhisthroatwhereishe..._

The last time he wakes up he is in a room he does not recognize. This doesn't really alarm him. He's use to it now.

Besides, the room is white.

'What is it about monocolor that is so attractive to the queens of Underland?' He wonders. 'Surely a few splashes of color here and there couldn't cause her majesty _that_ much distress.'

This room is quite filthy, he realizes. Broken furniture everywhere. And what is that on the walls? Blood?

His blood, he again realizes. His blood from the scratches that decorate his hands and arms. Blood under his fingernails too.

"Really? I know the white must be annoying... Where is my hat? If Chess has taken it again... Cat, hat... A rhyme..."

Down below, beside the locked tower door, Mirana listens. She's been listen quite hard now, ever since the screaming stopped. Hoping that something better, not worse, will take it's place.

Hoarse crooning makes it's way down the tower stairs, tickling her ears.

_Twinkle twinkle little bat_

_I think the cat has stole my hat_

_Chase him down and steal him too_

_Cut him up and make some stew_

_Twinkle twinkle little bat_

_I think the cat..._

Over and over again, dissolving into maniacal laughter, until Mirana starts to cry, useless potions held in useless hands.

* * *

Alice sat at her desk, re-reading her letter again, letting her smile stretch wider, feeling the bands that had grown around her heart stretch, loosen, and break.


	2. Chapter 1

It was a wonderful day.

It dawned dark, the thick layer of clouds hiding the sun so well it might not have risen at all. But it did rise that fifteenth of September, on a Wednesday morning.

And Alice Kingsley woke up in her own bed, in her mother's house, with the taste of raw peas in her mouth.

When she was very young, and her father was still alive, on special mornings they would sneak out at dawn and raid their London house's kitchen garden for the fresh peas. Little Alice was sure that nothing tasted so delicious as those sweet peas fresh out of the pod. Her father convinced her that they were candy, and that all candy grew from plants. Every spring, until she turned ten and learned better, she planted licorice whips in an unused corner of the garden, and every summer was disappointed anew when they failed to grow.

Still, the taste of peas held a very special place in her heart. It was only on special days her father took her through the garden gate at dawn, and special days always meant good things for Alice, at least when her father was involved.

Today was a very, very special day after all. Alice stretched in bed, allowing a smile to rival Chessur's to sweep her face.

Pack! She had to pack!

Alice sprang from her bed, a sudden flurry of activity. 'Wait a moment.' Her inner voice cautioned, 'It must be small enough to fit through the door.'

Well, that ruled out most of her luggage. In fact, the only thing she had small enough was a shoulder bag, perhaps the most useful item she had purchased before leaving on her trip.

"Well," Alice sighed, "I suppose I can do without a change of clothes."

Use the bag might be, but it would only hold three tins of the various teas she had brought back from China and two 9 yard pieces of silk, folded very small. Alice was certain the teas would delight the teaparty crew, and she was looking forward to seeing what her Hatter would do with the silks that were his gift.

Throwing on her undergarments and a light blue woolen dress, Alice seized her gifts, exited her room, and almost immediately lost her footing on the steps. Things might have gone from merely embarrassing to disastrous if she had not quickly grabbed the banister for dear life.

'So much for a quiet exodus...'

"Alice, is that you?" Mrs. Kingsley entered the downstairs hallway. "There you are. Breakfast is ready and then we'll drive together to..." She trailed off, noticing her daughter's shoulder bag. "You're not leaving at this hour?"

Alice nodded. "I'm so sorry, but I promised Lord Ascot I'd be there first thing in the morning to sign some last minute documents. And from there I'll be going straight to the ship."

This was a lie, albeit a necessary one. Alice was going to Lord Ascot's, that was true. She would sign documents that would give him her vote in the company board, and he would sign documents ensuring that the profits belonging to Alice would go directly to her mother. She just wouldn't be leaving the estate. At least, not by carriage.

"All you're taking is that _bag_! And I haven't had time to contact Margaret so we can be there to see you off... You've only been home a _month_!" Mrs. Kingsley was far too well bred to raise her voice in her own home. Nevertheless, Alice's ears still rang while her mind skipped and skittered over her practiced explanation.

"I sent my luggage on ahead," (another lie, it was in storage) "you and Margaret threw me a farewell dinner last night, and if you came today I would only cry for leaving so soon after I just returned. Please? I promise I'll write at the earliest opportunity."

Mrs. Kingsley eyed her daughter, trying to hold back tears.

"I don't suppose you're properly dressed for your meeting."

Alice smiled, recognizing the phrase that had come to mean 'I love you'.

"I've got my codfish right here." She teased, patting the bag.

One more round of hugs, one more kiss goodbye, and Alice was off. She grinned: If only she had some way of letting loose her heart from her chest. It had grown wings again, and would surely get there before her.

* * *

Goodbyes said, documents signed, Pishsalver drunk, and Alice was headed down the path towards Queast. A little experimentation with the drink and Upelkuchen had restored her to her rightful size. At least, she thought so. Alice shook her head as she walked. It wasn't as though an inch or two either way made that much difference. Down through Tulgey Wood she walked, until she stumbled into the Windmill clearing.

No one was there.

Alice stared, certain that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no. There was the table, the empty chairs. The Victrola lay on its side, overgrown. The table was covered in leaves with not a crumb of scone laying among its abandoned cups and saucers.

Alice approached the table cautiously. Didn't she have a nightmare that started like this...? Nothing happened. She sat down in one of the chairs. Still nothing.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Alice inhaled in relief as the thought occurred to her. 'Of course they're not here. They must have tea in Mamorial now... '

"But how do I get from here to there?..."

"You could start walking..." The air replied in dulcet tones as the Cheshire Cat formed in the chair across from her. "Oh my. Is it _the_ Alice?"

"Is there another imposter running around?" Alice grinned, wrinkling her nose. "I thought Hatter and Mally and the hare would be here, but obviously not. Are they at Mamorial?"

"You _could_ say that."

"I just did."

Chessur smiled wider. "Fine. I suppose I am once again relegated to Underlands' unofficial tour guide. Do keep up."

Underland had changed under the White Queens' rule, Alice noted with pleasure. It was certainly more colorful that before, and someone had taken the time to cut back the undergrowth along the paths. Alice was eternally grateful to that someone. No more losing paths for her! Perhaps now she would finally be able to move around this world without relying on the mock-suffering Chessur.

In contrast it appeared that Mamorial had not changed at all, Alice grimanced. It was still very... well.. _white_. Quite blinding, really. Alice then laughed out loud: the thought of Lowal waking up in this place after a night of indulgence had just appeared in her mind.

"You're going to need that sense of humor, you know." Chessur said suddenly, smile conspicuously absent. "Something very... bad... happened in your absence."

Alice frowned. Bad? That could mean any number of things... "Chess, if you're about to tell me that Stayne and Iracebeth are back and fielding an army whilst riding on the back of an headless, undead Jabberwocky, even evaporating will not save you."

"Have you never heard the phrase 'don't shoot the messenger'? Luckily for me though, what you are suggesting is quite preposterous. Everyone knows that you would fall right through the ribcage of an undead Jabberwocky." Chessur glanced around and floated closer, curling around her neck. "It has to do with a certain hatter, you see. Ever since Frabj-"

"Chessur I _forbid_ you to say another word to Alice!"

Chessur abruptly disappeared as Alice spun around.

Queen Mirana stood there, flanked by a pair of chess pieces. Effortlessly, she floated toward Alice.

"I am sorry for startling you, my dear champion, but I did not want Chessur to tell you such terrible news so... so unexpectedly." Mirana sighed, unconsciously mimicking the sound of wind through the trees. "I told him as much, but cats... They never take orders well and I wanted-"

"Your Majesty." Alice curtsied, "I'm so very sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me what is wrong with Hatter?" Internally she winced, 'could you tell me? Would it inconvenience Mirana in the least if you worded your suggestions into demands?' Her inner voice, the one that had suddenly developed the chill of steel in its' tone, berated her.

"_Tarrant_" Mirana emphasized, "has gone completely mad. Every since the first anniversary of Frabjous day."

Alice smiled nervously "He's always been mad..."

"No one has been able to bring him back this time. In fact," Mirana looked over at the courtyard sundial "you will very soon be able to hear what I mean."

"What do you..." Alice trailed off. Distantly she could hears screams. Over and over again, bloodcurdling screams. Her eyes started to well up. The screamer sounded as if they were in pain; a prisoner being tortured by watching someone they loved have their heart tore out might make similar piteous cries. "That can't be..."

"It is." Mirana watched Alice closely. Even the Oraculum, consulted so many times in the past three years, had failed to predict what her response would be.

"_Why_?"

"It's brillig, of course."

Alice glanced sharply at the Queen, "Sorry, what?"

"Teatime, Alice."

Alice shook her head and resigned herself to the fact that none of this conversation was going to make sense to her until she wrapped her mind around the basics: Somehow it was _Hatter_ making those awful noises. She opened her mouth, and before she thought of what it was she was going to say, her muchness burst out in the form of words.

"I want to see him. Right now."

* * *

Apparently visiting Tarrant to bring him his meal now required two guards and a servant to carry the tray. Adding Mirana and Alice to the mix caused the number of guards to go up to six, with the servant, a particularly morose looking frog, safely sandwiched in the middle. Alice was just beginning to wonder if their lovely little parade would even _fit_ into wherever they were keeping Hatter when a voice, rapidly coming closer, tickled her ears.

"Oy! Nunz without me!" Mallymkin scampered across the white marble as quickly as possible.

"Mally!" Alice exclaimed, crouching down and laying both hands flat on the floor. Mally went straight for Alice and, before she could jerk away, stabbed the fleshy base of her thumb with a hat pin. "Ouch! Mally, what-" Alice stood up quickly, then worried that that was an invitation for the mouse to go for her ankles.

"Slurvish guddler's scut! And where were you the past couple years?" Mally hissed. "Why'd you never come back like you promised?"

"I have come back! I would have come back long ago but I don't know my way here from China!" Alice protested.

"Humph! A likely story."

"Mallymkin-" Mirana began.

"Very likely, considering that it's the truth!" Alice retorted. She crouched back down. "Please, Mally, you know I would have done my best to come if I had known anything was wrong. I'm sorry, so sorry it took me so long to get here."

Mally nearly strained her neck looking up, examining Alice's face. "Tisn't me you need to apologize to." She muttered, "I'm not the one gone gallymoggers."

Alice put a hand back down and Mally crawled on.

"Is it really true Mally?" Alice asked the mouse in her hand, "Her Majesty said even you couldn't bring him back."

"True enough. Naught for usal, Alice." Mally hung her head.

"Maybe so, but I'm still going to try." Alice cupped both hands around Mallymkin and brought her close. "I promise."

"That is a noble sentiment, Alice." Mirana broke in. "And on that note, shall we continue?"

Mirana motioned for the guard to unlock the door. _Three _locks Alice noted. With locks undone, the party continued up winding stairs, tray bearing frog still ensconced between them.

It must be a tower room then, Alice observed. Surely they had gone up more steps here than in any other part of the castle. Soon they came to another door, locked merely once, but also barred for good measure.

All too late, and yet too soon for Alice's liking, she was stepping through the doorway into a circular room.

The room and it's contents were unimportant, trivial, compared to what was within. Crouched farthest from the door, Alice barely recognized her Hatter. Pants and shirt with ripped sleeves, that was all that remained of the bright suit he once wore. Pure white skin, marred with scratches, stretched thin over bone. He raised his head in response to their arrival, and Alice gasped, shocked, through intellectually she wondered what else she expected, considering the rest of _Underland_ now considered him gallymoggers. The dark circles under and around his eyes turned his face into a skull, sickly yellow pupils shinning from their sockets. Red hair tangled and matted around his face. Those eyes looked through them, ceaselessly roaming the room, until they landed on the frog. Slowly, as though stalking, Tarrant got to his feet.

"Klotchyn, Fred!" Mally warned.

The frog (apparently named Fred) slowly set down the tray and began to back away.

"Perhaps we'd all better go down now." Mirana suggested as Tarrant's eyes refused to leave the frog. Stepping closer, the Hatter suddenly lunged.

"_**Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid**_"

Was all Alice could hear. Fred shrieked, a very odd sound indeed had Alice the leisure to contemplate it, and sprang for the door. A little too slow. Hatter had crossed the room in five leaps, seized the frog in both hands, and started to squeeze. Two of the guards disengaged from the others and attempted to wrestle the Hatter's hands behind his back.

Alice clutched Mally closer to her chest and forced her way through to them.

"Hatter!" She screamed in his ear, but all she accomplished was to distract the knight piece, allowing the Hatter to rip one arm free. In the midst of his thrashing his closed fist connected with Alice's cheek.

Pain blossomed, deadening Alice's mind with shock. She was on the ground before she realized what had happened, Mally still clenched between her hands. A chess piece, a tower, she thought, carried her bodily down the steps and deposited her outside the second door. Above her she could still hear Hatter railing against the bloody red queen.

"You see?" Mallymkin whispered, climbing up to pat Alice's stinging face as the tears started to fall. "Naught to be done."

Mirana exited the tower as the ruckus above reached the fervor pitch.

"Alice, I'm so sorry. I should have warned you better." She laid one cool hand on Alice's reddened cheek.

Alice took a deep breath. "I'm not sorry. I wouldn't have believed you anyway, not without seeing it for myself. And... I want to go back up there, without the guards."

"You can't be serious. He _struck_ you!" Mirana cupped Alice's face in both hands. "Please. It was never my intention that you feel that you must fix this."

But Alice was in the throws of that thrice-damned-wonderful-horrible muchness. "He didn't mean to hit me, I'm sure of that. And if he does become violent, I'll come straight down and never go up without a guard again. Promise."

"I'll come with ye!" Mally asserted.

"No Mally. I'd never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you. And neither would Hatter." Alice set Mally down.

"If you are certain..." Mirana examined Alice.

"I am."

The White Queen handed a key over. "This is for the upper door. Have a guard let you in the lower, I will keep one posted here from now on, and always be sure to lock and bar the door when you leave. The lower door will be locked behind you, you will have to knock to be let back out."

Alice nodded. "I will."

Once again up the winding stairs and once again through the door. This time Alice looked at her surroundings more closely. The room itself was an octagon, each side containing a barred window, high up near the ceiling. The rightmost side from the door contained a bed, the only piece of furniture not smashed, perhaps in part because it was bolted to the marble floor. The bedding was a wild nest, blankets loosely piled on top of the mattress. Undoubtedly the room had once contained other objects, but Alice strongly suspected that their remnants were what was currently being crunched under her boots.

Alice crept further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her. There, in the corner behind the bed, he crouched, his right pinky in his mouth, crooning wordlessly. Gathering her muchness around her Alice approached him.

"Hatter?" Alice queried. Wait, what had Mirana called him? "Tarrant?"

Nothing.

Briefly Alice considered shaking him, then thought better of it. So instead, she sat down beside him, tentatively reaching out a hand to rub his back.

"You would like China, I think. I know I certainly did..."

* * *

"...beautiful architecture. All sweeping roofs and dragon pillars. They don't use glass very much there, just rice paper over intricately carved screens..."

He wondered how long the other had been there. It seemed her voice had been speaking for such a long time, but he had only now begun to listen to it.

"...hated traveling to Pekin. We got caught in the worst storm, flooded out of our campsite if you can believe it..."

He liked this voice. It calmed the others, sent them away.

"...Then from the Yellow Sea traveled by ship back to Hong Kong. They have the oddest ships there called Junks... Hatter?"

He knew this voice! It was Hers. It was Her voice, dredged up from his mind, mocking him.

"Tarrant?"

But he knew better than to acknowledge it. Acknowledge it, and it would go away, leaving him alone with all the other, angrier voices his mind dreamed up. If he ignored it, maybe it would stay...

"...around the age of seven is when they start. They break all the toes except the large one, folding the broken toes under the foot. Then they wrap the foot in wet bandages, wet so that it will shrink as they dry. The girl is then made to walk on them until the arch in her foot breaks, enabling them to wrap the feet tighter..."

* * *

"...it's suppose to resemble a lotus blossom, though I can't imagine how." Alice stroked Tarrant's head. She's already talked for several hours nonstop whilst compulsively checking her mouth for loose teeth. 'This might actually be going well', she thought. As long as she kept talking while handing him food, he would eat. Afterward, she had held his hand and walked him around the room. At one point Alice had even been certain that he had been watching her... but no. Alice frowned, then raised one hand to her cheek: It must look like she was just in a bar brawl. Her mother would faint to see her now.

Now dusk finally found Hatter in his bed, where Alice managed to guide him when his eyelids started to droop. 'So far,' Alice mused, thanking whatever lucky stars she must have achieved, 'he hasn't shown me the least bit hostility. Of course, he hasn't acknowledge my presence either, but it's hardly the time to be pessimistic.' And still she kept up her running monologue, hand stroking his forehead, throat starting to ach.

"The men seem to think it's ever so attractive, the women toddling around on their stumps of feet. It made me glad not to have been born Chinese."

Tarrant's eyes were slowly closing, his breathing becoming deeper.

"I have to go now... You're not the only one that needs rest. But I'll be back tomorrow. You may not believe this, I know, but..." Alice searched for the words, hand still drawing circles on his forehead. "...Even with everything wrong, I still wouldn't want to be any place but here."

* * *

Alice had started contemplating words that start with the letter D.

Day one was distressing, returning to Wonderland after years to find it change, and not in good way.

Day two was depressing, watching his eyes stare right through her in spite of everything she did to draw him out.

Day five was dismal. It might have been anyway, because of the rain, but Tarrant screaming in counterpoint to the lightning did not help matters any.

All were paling, Alice acknowledge as she ducked the chair she had brought up yesterday, wincing as it shattered against the wall behind her, in comparison to this, the seventh day, which seemed to be winding up to be disastrous. In truth, she really should have known better: When she came up that morning Tarrant was listing words, a sure sign that the day would not be going well.

"Beatle, bottle, broken, bent, brown, blob, boot, boat, beat, bloody, beans..."

Alice closed the door firmly behind her, crossing the room to sit with Tarrant. "Sounds like you're contemplating the letter B today." She commented.

"Beadle, bard, boo, bat, bump, blown..."

"Blue." Alice offered without thinking.

That was when all hell broke loose. After successfully ducking the chair, Alice found herself bombarded with the loose fragments of furniture past. Arms up to protect her eyes, Alice didn't see the only intact dresser drawer coming her way until it was almost too late. Twisting to avoid the drawer, Alice instead managed to catch her ankle on one of the bed legs, spraining it and scraping her arm against the bed as she fell down. Sucking in her breath from pain, Alice scrambled under the bed, away from the source of the flying objects.

'Wonderful, Alice. You'll have a new set of bruises to make up for the fading ones now.' Her inner voice chided.

The fit was over as suddenly as it had begun, as if he was confused by her abrupt absence. Alice was preparing herself to exit her hiding spot when something caught her eye: A teapot, conspicuously whole in that room of broken things. Alice grabbed it and brought it out with her. Dusting it off in the light, Alice smiled. She limped over to Tarrant, white teapot with fading blue design in hand.

"Look!" Alice held it out for him to examine. "It's the teapot you put me in when the Knave came, isn't it? And afterwards, you let me ride by hat, remember?" She smiled again, free hand tracing the china pattern.

Looking up, Alice's breath caught in her throat.

Tarrant was looking at her.

* * *

Things gradually started getting better after that. Tarrant still would not speak to her, but sometimes his eyes would track her across the room. Occasionally, his mumblings actually made sense, as much sense as he ever made, and as long as Alice was there to speak soothingly, the servants could come and go unmolested. Things had improved so much, in fact, that Alice had cleared the broken furniture out herself, then held Tarrant's hands and sang as the servants brought new fittings in.

It was this action that led Alice to the predicament she was in now: In a nightgown, wrestling with her bedding.

The morning after Alice had seen to it that the furnishings were replaced, she had opened the door to a scene of renewed destruction. Obviously, sometime in the night, or perhaps in the hours before she arrived, Tarrant had woken up and visited ruin upon his room.

Wrapping up the blankets and sheets around her pillows, Alice swung the bundle over her shoulder and limped to the tower room. The only solution she could think of was to naturally make herself available to him at any time, day or night. Of course, she hadn't exactly consulted anyone else on her decision. Mirana would only worried needlessly, Alice decided. And perhaps assign her a personal guard, which couldn't exactly be called helping. As for informing someone else... well, Alice hadn't had the time to inquire as to the particulars of impropriety here, but she was almost certain that sneaking off to sleep in a man's room, a man who was most definitely not her husband, was universally taboo.

Up the winding stairs and through the door, Alice started making her bed on the far side of Tarrant's bed, on the floor. Most of the blankets went under the bottom sheet, protection against the cold. Alice slipped in, wiggling. It was better than she expected, though she wished Mirana would consider replacing some of the endless marble in her castle with hardwood, or at least invest in some rugs.

Tarrant was already asleep, the moonlight peeking through the windows making him look blue. The whole room, actually, was a dreamy kind of blue... And... (yawn) ...this really... wasn't as bad... as the trip to Pekin...

Alice woke disoriented, unsure of why her sleep had been interrupted in the first place. She took a moment to listen, then sat up. Tarrant was crying.

She crept up to bed, then got in and wrapped her arms around him. Over and over again he was mumbling something through his tears, something she couldn't quite hear. She leaned over, ear close to his mouth:

_"Pleasepleasepleasepleasedon'tgo...I'msorry,I'llbebetter...pleasepleasepleasedon'tgo..._

Over and over again, until Alice herself felt like crying. But what would be the point? 'None at all, stupid girl.' Alice grimaced. Her inner voice has stolen Absolem's. So she choked back her tears, forcing them down to gather into a lump at the base of her throat. She leaned over again and whispered: "I wish you knew I was here." Alice cuddled him closer, held him tighter, waiting for it to pass. And when it did, Tarrant fast asleep once again, it was Alice's turn to cry. It was then Alice promised herself, and him: Even if he never came back, she would never leave him.

Even as a child Alice was never given to making promises lightly, even if it was a vow that remained unvoiced. And so it was that Alice's' days became increasingly centered around Tarrant. She re-bandaged his hands, sanitized his scratches, talked, sang, cajoled him to eat, all the while becoming increasingly oblivious to the passing of days... Until the invitation to have an early tea with Mirana came on her breakfast tray, the words carefully morphed from a request into a command.

* * *

"More tea?" Mirana poured a cup, making that simple action look as complicated as analyzing market value and a graceful as a bounding gazelle. Alice dredged up a smile to accept her cup, wondering if this had been a good idea at all. At her most graceful, Mirana was enough to set a saint's teeth on edge; right now, bruised and headache bound, Alice hardly felt up for dealing with her. Still, it was the first significant socialization she had had with anyone since she came, besides Tarrant, of course. And talking to someone with all the conversation skills of Aboveworld statuary could hardly be called socializing...

Mirana's hand drifted into Alice's view, pouring cream into her tea. Gracefully, of course.

'Grit your teeth and bear it, Alice,' Her voice had the gall to sound amused, 'any more time locked in that room and you'll be baying at the moon too.'

Across the table Thackery was throwing scones at the Tweedles, who were currently hitting each other, while Chessur floated over the scene, searching for a place to sit that was not drenched in tea. Alice found it all quite distracting, but they had might as well be surrounded by Mirana's usual court for all the attention the White Queen was paying it. In fact, Alice noted, alarmed, it would appear that Mirana had been speaking to her for some time.

"...killed Stayne on the spot when he entered Tulgey Wood. I had to speak very harshly with them about that, of course. Apparently he had cut Iracebeth's arm off, leaving her to bleed to death in the Outlands-"

"I'm so sorry." Alice broke in. "About your sister, I mean."

Mirana smiled, "Thank you. I'm fine though. This was over a year ago, after all."

Alice frowned, "I forget sometimes. Time use to stop whenever I left here, now so much happened in my absence..."

"I'm worried about you Alice." Mirana murmured, "You've been very busy with Tarrant."

Alice discretely checked her exposed skin for any uncovered bruises. " 'm fine. Just fine." She mumbled through her teacup. That couldn't exactly be called a lie, she was fine. Just like Tarrant, she was pretty sure, didn't mean to hurt her. She just occasionally managed to get in the way of flying objects. She quickly gulped the rest of her tea. "I'm sorry, but I really have to get going. It's almost-"

Those horrible screams started to faintly echo through the room.

"Brillig." Alice and Mirana finished together.

Alice lengthened her stride as much as she could. Why on earth had she chosen to wear a dress today? Alice hitched up her dress and ran to the tower door as the screams became louder. Pausing at the second door, Alice sucked air in through her pants before crossing the room to Tarrant.

"It's alright, it's alright. I'm right here." She murmured, kneeling down and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him against her chest. Her ears rang as the screams were replaced with a high keening.

"Shhhh..." Alice began to rock back and forth, catching her breath before beginning to croon softly:

_My Bonnie lies over the ocean_

Hadn't she read this, her current predicament, in a book somewhere before?

_My Bonnie lies over the sea_

Ah yes! That novel that the Chattaway sisters had loaned her, the one she only read because it scandalized her mother so badly.

_My Bonnie lies over the ocean_

The one where a manor household takes in a little servant girl, maid, or perhaps she was the local Duke's daughter who hit her head and woke with no memory and the mysterious ability to herd geese.

_Please bring back my Bonnie to me_

And the son of the master of this household would fall ill (or maybe it was the master himself, or perhaps his second cousin...) and the only one who would care for him was the brave little whatever-on-earth she was.

_Oh blow the winds o'er the ocean_

Alice had acquired an appreciation for that insipid little character now. Nowhere in that book had it mentioned what a lot of hard work it was caring for an invalid.

_Oh blow the winds o'er the sea_

And of course the story would end with the whatever-he-was waking, realizing that the little chit gazing at him with vapid eyes had been caring for him the entire time, and...

_Oh blow the winds o'er the ocean_

Alice paused in her thoughts. Did she want Tarrant to kiss her? She rather thought so. Maybe not immediately, right now he was rather a mess, but... Later? Perhaps.

_And bring back my Bonnie to me_

Alice realized that Tarrant had stopped making noise at all, in fact, his face was turned up towards hers, watching her. His eyes were the jade-green that she remembered.

"Alice?" His voice emerged more as a croak.

That he was a mess must have mattered to her less than she thought, for suddenly _she _was kissing _him_, despite the fact that her mind protested that she was doing this all wrong, opposite indeed. But then he was kissing her back, and the protests were forgotten along the way.

And it was wonderful.

* * *

Please tell me if you think I should continue this or scrap it.

_My Bonnie lies over the ocean_ is a Scottish traditional. Obviously I don't own that beautiful work.


End file.
